Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 100188 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100188 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
When I remembered his tenderness for her, it explained a bit of his disorientation in what had been her home for years. And then I recalled it had also been his own mother’s childhood home. My great-grandmother had grown up in the Hobie farmhouse before meeting and marrying Jeremiah Stiel when he came to Hobie to purchase a plot of land on behalf of the Baptist General Convention for the location of the brand-new Hobie First Baptist church just off the town square.
After Grandfather left, I reminded myself that this farmhouse had been a part of his heritage the same way it had been to his sister. While he wouldn’t have been nearly as sentimental about his mother’s birthplace as Melody had been, he still would have found the property meaningful.
Property was in his blood.
Stiels had been buying and selling property for themselves and others for over a century. Could that have explained his melancholy mood?
It had left me feeling so unsettled that I’d called Rory to tell her about it. We’d talked for an hour about Grandfather’s recent strange behavior, Mother’s shortening temper, and, inevitably, the self-defense lessons I’d let her talk me into. I told her a little bit about my instructor and even the part about me getting one over on him with the bite. After she praised my ingenuity, I had to admit to him getting me back.
By the time we got off the phone, I’d tried to gather up enough courage to sleep in my bed again, but I just couldn’t. My attic nest was so much more comfortable now that I had rigged up some twinkle lights and hung some of my favorite keys among them from the whitewashed boards that comprised the ceiling of the little nook. It made it seem less like a storage cubby and more like a special secret hideaway. In addition to the thick duvet I usually kept on the guest bed, I’d brought up two of Melody’s vintage quilts that were sturdy enough for use and the two squishy bed pillows from the guest room. It almost felt like a little wolf’s den or something. I could understand the concept den animals had of securing such a space.
I knew if anyone ever found this place, however, I would die of embarrassment. I would keel right over in abject horror and never be able to show my face around that person again.
The following morning, I got up early to treat myself to a fancy coffee and pastry at the bakery before opening the shop. Halfway to town, my sister called to tell me she and Kat had gotten up early to drive out to Hobie for a visit. We decided to meet up at Sugar Britches to have breakfast before heading over to the shop. I was thrilled to have the distraction of their visit to help me spend less time obsessing about a certain baby-faced Wilde.
When I entered the bakery, the line was almost out the door. Luckily, I noticed Rory and Katrina at a table in the corner and was able to squeeze past the line to join them.
“We got you a pumpkin-spiced—” Rory began with a straight face.
“Bullshit, give me the mocha,” I interrupted, holding out my hand for the huge ceramic mug. She knew I hated the very idea of pumpkin-spiced anything and craved chocolate as much as coffee.
“Told you he wouldn’t believe you,” Kat murmured before kissing Rory on the ear. “But you were adorable with your pretend serious face. You get an A for effort, cutie pie.”
Rory rolled her eyes and reached out to give me a side hug before handing me the drink.
“They’re bringing out the pastries in a minute. As soon as the guy at the counter saw the last name on my credit card, he kind of squealed and did a little dance. I don’t know what that means, but he told us that made us VIPs. How do people know who we are out here in the sticks?”
I glanced over my shoulder and spotted the hyperactive manager with the hot-pink faux-hawk and pale pink lip gloss talking a customer’s ear off while simultaneously frothing milk and running a credit card through the machine. “Oh, that’s Stevie. He runs the place. I guess he’s a friend?”
There was no telling why I hesitated to call people in Hobie a true friend. Charlie and I had been friendly for at least eight months, and half the time hanging out with Charlie meant hanging out with Hudson. And then there was Jen who owned the children’s boutique next to my shop and always went in with me on a Chinese food takeout order every Friday for lunch.
“Is that a question?” Rory asked.
“Well, we kind of bonded over our mutual hatred of Precious Moments figurines. You’d have to know Stevie to understand why that’s a thing. And then we both discovered we secretly sponsor animals in need from that ridiculous commercial…”